


Steve Rogers: Unapologetic Slut

by hawksonfire



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alley Sex, Bisexual Clint Barton, Bisexual Tony Stark, Blow Jobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Everyone is Queer, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M (mentioned), Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multi, Steve Rogers & Clint Barton Friendship, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Fucked His Way Through Brooklyn, Steve Rogers Fucked His Way Through The USO, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve Rogers is a massive fucking slut, Steve sleeps with literally everyone, Top Steve Rogers, because I said so, i know what i said, no i am not sorry, pansexual Steve Rogers, threesome - F/M/M (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-02 11:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19197940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Five times people found out Steve Rogers was a massive slut, plus one time he told them.





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> I _completely_ blame the Bad Decision Discord for this, and you should too. Seriously. This is kind of ridiculous. 
> 
> There's only explicit sex in chapter four, the rest is either just talked about or fade-to-black. 
> 
> I really hope y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

**_~~~(1) Bucky (1)~~~_ **

**Bucky**

Bucky hitches his suspenders up again - he really needs to get them fixed, they keep falling down. Maybe he can convince Steve to fix them for him. Speaking of Steve, he sees a familiar figure walking ahead of him on the sidewalk and grins. Steve musta got off early from bagging groceries. It ain’t much, but it helps keeps food on the table.

He opens his mouth to call out Steve’s name but before he can, a large group of giggling dames come spilling out of the dress shop he’s walking past. “Ladies,” he says, winking at them. They titter and he spends a few minutes being charming, then apologizes and moves on, only to find that Steve is nowhere to be seen. 

He speeds up a little bit until he comes to where he saw Steve walking, and something a bit further ahead catches his eye. “Damn,” he mutters under his breath. It’s a coloured pencil - one of the ones he got Steve for his birthday a coupl’a weeks ago. It bein’ on the ground like this can only mean that Steve got ambushed. Again. 

“Better not be fuckin’ McGregor and his pals,” Bucky growls, already rolling up his sleeves. “Thought they learned their lesson the last time I kicked their asses.” He stands still and listens intently, trying to hear the (unfortunately familiar) sound of Stevie gettin’ beat up. A muffled grunt comes from an alley just a bit ahead of him, so he picks up the pace. 

He walks into the alley calmly, eyes darting around to find Steve. The sun glints off of the familiar blond of Steve’s hair and Bucky says, “Thought I told you boys to - Aw, hell Stevie!” He whirls around and covers his eyes, shuddering at what he just saw. 

Carl Johnson, balls deep in Stevie’s ass and Steve, grinning at Carl over his shoulder with a flush on his cheeks and his fingers in Carl’s hair. 

“Dammit Rogers, at least take it somewhere private!” He says loudly, trying to cover up the noises he really doesn’t want to hear. “You’re practically in the street here!”

He’s not expecting an answer, and he doesn’t get one - he manages to block out the majority of the noises coming from behind him, and only glares a little when he feels a tap on his shoulder. “You offerin’ up our apartment, Buck?” Steve says, and his breathing is a little harsh but nothing to be worried about yet. 

Carl shifts on his feet, refusing to look Bucky in the eye. Bucky rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m offerin’ our apartment, punk. ‘S better than you doin’ it in a godforsaken alley where anyone can walk by and see you, ya idiot!”

“You okay with this, Barnes?” Carl says, surprise clear in his voice. 

“Sure,” Bucky shrugs easily, “Long as you ain’t hurtin’ nobody, I don’t see why it’s any’a my business what two people get up to when they’re alone.”

“And you won’t... tell anyone?” Carl asks. 

Bucky rolls his eyes again. Jesus, Carl sure can be thick sometimes. “Far as I’m concerned, I never saw any of this.”

Steve pulls out from under Bucky’s arm and says to Carl, “Hey, meet me at my place next time?” Carl nods and practically races out of the alley, disappearing onto the street. Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders again and they leave the alley and start to walk home. “You really alright with this, Buck?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah, Stevie,” Bucky says. “I don’t care who you fuck, long as you don’t do it where it could get you in trouble.”

“You mean like the bathroom at the fair we went to last month?” Steve says slyly. 

“I knew you weren’t just flushed from the heat!” Bucky exclaims, jabbing Steve in the ribs. “I do got one thing, though.”

“Yeah? What’s that,” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. 

“Carl Johnson? Really? The man’s thicker than a rock, Stevie.”

Steve grins at him. “Buck, his thickness is part’a why I like ‘im so much.”

Bucky shudders and shoves Steve away from him. “Great, now I’m gonna hafta shower just to get the dirt of what you just said offa me. Thanks a lot, punk.”

“I can’t help who I am, Buck,” Steve grins, “And I can’t help that Carl gives me a good, hard -”

“Enough!” Bucky shouts, slapping a hand over Steve’s mouth. Eyeing Steve out of the corner of his eye, Bucky says, “Think he’d be better than me?”

Steve looks at him and grins. “Let’s find out, shall we?” Bucky grins at him and they head back to their apartment.

~~~~~~

Bucky can’t help but feel a little smug when Steve casually mentions a few days later that he’s going to stop seeing Carl.


	2. Natasha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha goes with Steve to meet an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The name of this fic in my google docs is "slutty!steve and his shenanigans" so.
> 
> Make of that what you will.

**_~~~(2) Natasha (2)~~~_ **

**Steve**

“Steve, where are we even going?” Natasha asks.

“Patience, Nat,” Steve chides, smirking when she glares at him. Few people could tell the Black Widow to have patience and live (Steve’s _mostly_ sure that he’s one of them). “You’ll find out when we get there.”

He pulls up to a retirement home, parks and gets out of the car. “A retirement home?” Nat asks, skeptical. “If you brought me here to play bingo, Steve, I swear.”

“Not bingo,” Steve says, “Just to visit an old friend.” He leads her inside, waving at Karen - the lady who works the front desk. “Hi Karen, he out back?”

“He’s in his room today, Steve. He had a bad night, so you might not get very much from him,” Karen says sympathetically.

“Thanks,” Steve says, and he walks down the hallway and knocks on a non-descript door.

“Unless you have coffee, go away!” A voice says from inside.

Steve laughs and opens the door. “No coffee, Michael, just an old friend.” He hugs Michael gingerly, folding the elderly man into his arms.

“Steve!” Michael says cheerfully, “You weren’t supposed to come until next week!”

“Yeah, well a friend of mine was complaining that I didn’t have any friends, so I thought I’d prove her wrong,” Steve says, gesturing towards Natasha. He leaves it up to her to introduce herself, he knows how she is about that.

“Natasha,” she says, holding out her hand.

“Charmed, my dear,” Michael says, kissing her hand gently. “Michael Corrigan, at your service.”

“Pleasure,” Natasha says, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “So, how do you know Steve?”

“Oh, he punched me in the face a whole bunch back in the day,” Michael says airily, and Steve nearly breaks down laughing at the look on Nat’s face.

“Michael played Hitler on the old USO circuit,” he explains, and Michael punches his shoulder.

“Dammit Steve, you ruin all my fun!” He complains. “Also, ow! Guess that hasn’t changed.”

Steve snickers. “Nope. I can still take a pounding - even from you, old man.”

“Hey!” Michael says, pointing a gnarled finger at him. “We’re the same age, no matter how good I look compared to you, so don’t you go callin’ me old man!”

“Sir yes sir,” Steve says, saluting. He holds it for a couple of seconds, and then Michael’s stern expression cracks and they start laughing.

“Ah, those were the days,” Michael says, settling into an armchair. Steve’s fingers twitch with the urge to help him, but he manages to keep himself still - although, based on the look Michael shoots him, he didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. “You remember that time in Kentucky? With Margot and Rebecca?”

The tips of Steve’s ears turn pink as he nods, and he can practically _feel_ Natasha perk up. “You old coots mind sharing the story?” She asks.

Michael looks to Steve for permission and Steve nods. “Well, settle in girlie, this one’s a doozie. It was about two weeks after the circuit started, and me an’ a couple of the girls had noticed Steve here gettin’ real twitchy. So we cornered him after a show one night and asked him what the hell was wrong with him, and the poor bastard tells us that he hadn’t gotten off since he got the serum!”

Natasha blinks, which for her is basically choking on air, and Steve takes over. “These three random strangers - I mean, I was friendly with them, but I wouldn’t have called us friends, exactly - cornered me and threatened to tell the guy in charge that somethin’ was the matter with me unless I told them what was wrong. Didn’t exactly give me a choice in the matter. Anyway, I told them -”

“Blushin’ and stammerin’ the whole damn time,” Michael interrupts, grinning.

“It wasn’t exactly conversation for polite company,” Steve says, shaking his head. “So I’m bright fuckin’ red and after I told them what the issue was, they asked me which way I swung. I said both, and then they asked me if I had ever had more than one person at a time.”

“He says - and I couldn’t believe this at the time, because we’d all seen pictures of him before the serum,” Michael says, “And let me tell you, any one of us would’a been happy to have him then, too.” He leers at Steve, and Steve chuckles, shoving gently at his arm. “So he says he ain’t ever had more than one, but if we’re offering he’d love to try it - and us - out, and the rest was history.”

“Best decision I ever made, tellin’ them what was the matter,” Steve says dreamily, lost in the memory.

“So you slept with the three of them?” Natasha asks, her eyebrows raised.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, “That time, anyway.”  
  
“That time?” Natasha asks in shock.

“Sure,” Michael says wickedly, “Once we’d got a taste of him, you can be damn sure we weren’t about to let him go anywhere. Took us a minute or two, but we managed to find a night where the whole group was off for the night - now _that_ was a good night.”

“Damn,” Natasha says, impressed.

“Yeah, I was a massive slut,” Steve shrugs.

“This boy slept with all of the USO crew one-on-one at least once, and we had some damn fine group nights too,” Michael says, slapping Steve on the back.

“Hey, you remember the first time we spent a night together?” Steve asks.

Michael laughs. “Yes! We could barely keep it together long enough to get off, we were laughing so hard.”

“Laughing?” Nat asks, and she’s grinning now - an actual grin, not the fake one she gives to the press - and it gives Steve a warm feeling in his chest.

“Yeah,” Steve says, “I mean, Captain America, taking it up the ass? And from Hitler, no less? Senator Brandt would’ve had an aneurysm if he knew.” He snickers.

“Boy, Brandt would’a fuckin’ exploded if he found out!” Michael laughs.

“Ah, the good old orgy days,” Steve says, grinning at Michael. “Say, how’s Stephanie doing? She’s graduated now, right?”

“Yeah,” Michael says proudly, “There’re pictures of the ceremony over in that box.” He gestures to a wooden box on his dresser, and the three of them spend the rest of the time going through family pictures. They’re there for two more hours before they leave, and Natasha walks out first - presumably to get the car, but it gives Steve a moment alone with Michael, so he’s grateful whatever her reason.

“It was good to see you, Michael,” Steve says, hugging the other man.

“Yeah, you too, Steve,” Michael says. “Say, you sleepin’ with your friend there yet?”

“Michael!” Steve squawks.

Michael starts laughing. “I’m just teasin’,” he says, “But I’m sure she’d be open to it. Hell, if it weren’t weird what with the way we look now, I’d be open to it.”

Steve laughs. “I don’t think Margot would be okay with that.”

“Probably not,” Michael admits, “But then again, she was always the more adventurous of the two of us. Now scram, boy. Don’t keep a beautiful woman waiting.”

“Sir yes sir,” Steve grins, and he salutes one more time before he leaves. Once he gets in the car and starts driving away, he lasts five minutes before he looks at Natasha. “Well?”

“Well what, Steve,” she says.

“Did you like him?”

“He was a sweet old man,” Natasha says, “What’s not to like?” Steve hums in agreement. “I didn’t know you were such a massive slut back then,” she says.

Steve shrugs. “Sex felt good. I didn’t have a lot that felt good before the serum, so I took it where I could get it. After the serum... Well, I could reciprocate for the first time and my stamina took a massive boost. Didn’t hurt that all my senses were heightened.”

Natasha eyes him out of the corner of her eye. She makes an appreciative noise and Steve snorts. “What, can’t a girl enjoy a little eye candy?” Nat asks, grinning.

“Sure,” Steve shrugs, “Enjoy away.” A few more minutes pass and Steve lets Natasha shamelessly ogle him, and then, “Eye candy’s great and all, but I know you do better with first-hand information.”

“What are you saying, Rogers?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I believe the kids call it friends with benefits?” Steve says, keeping his eyes on the road. “I trust you, I hope you trust me. Wouldn’t be a terrible thing if that trust extended to bed.”

She doesn’t answer him right away, but that’s alright. Steve knows that she takes time to think these things over. They’ve nearly made it all the way back to the Tower before she answers him, and her quiet, “Okay,” nearly makes Steve drive into a pole.

“Great!” He says, probably too cheerily.

“Steve?” She asks.

“Yeah?”

“Does sleeping with you still count as doing my patriotic duty if I’m Russian?”

“Da,” Steve responds seriously, and he manages to keep a straight face for approximately two seconds before breaking down into laughter.

“Why am I doing this again?” Natasha sighs, shaking her head at him fondly.

Steve manages to stop laughing long enough to say, “Super dick,” and then he’s laughing so hard he nearly cries - but this time, Natasha joins in.

They walk into the Tower, still laughing and leaning on each other, and they’ve just managed to calm themselves down a bit when Tony asks, “What’s so funny?”

“супер член,” Natasha says, and Steve laughs so hard that he starts wheezing.

Tony just looks at them blankly and then walks away, muttering “Why do I let these fools stay here again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on the [ tweets ](https://twitter.com/candycanedarcy)!
> 
> follow me on the [ tumbles ](https://candycanedarcy.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, just like that, they're cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some Official Sam Wilson Inner Monologue.

**_~~~(3) Sam (3)~~~_ **

**Sam**

Sam watches Barnes from a distance, arms crossed. He knows that this guy is Steve’s best friend from way back whenever, and he knows that supposedly, this guy would do anything for Steve.

He also knows that _if_ this guy has gone through what Steve says he’s gone through, there’s very little chance that Steve’s Bucky is still in there somewhere. You don’t just _get over_ seventy years of torture and mind-fuckery.

“How’s he lookin’, Sam?” Steve asks. And Sam would pretty much do anything for this guy, okay - because Captain Americaness aside, Steve Rogers is the best damn person Sam knows.

So despite what his training tells him, and despite what his goddamn _eyes_ tell him, he says, “Still unconscious. Won’t be able to tell much more until he wakes up.” _And if he’s a mindless killer, then I guess that’ll answer your question, won’t it?_ Sam doesn’t say.

“It’ll be fine,” Steve says, and he sounds so goddamn earnest and his fucking _voice_ \- the man could convince a damn astronaut the earth was flat.

“Sure,” Sam says easily, because he’s not about to crush Steve’s hopes and dreams.

“It will,” Steve insists.

Sam holds up his hands. “Hey, I agreed with you, man.”

“Sure,” Steve says, in the exact tone that Sam had used - and okay, Sam sees why Steve wouldn’t have believed him. He winces and Steve smirks. Steve walks over to the door and inches it open, and Sam keeps his eyes on Barnes.

“Hey Cap!” He says loudly, noticing Barnes waking up. Steve runs over to in front of Barnes.

“Steve,” Barnes says hoarsely.

“Which Bucky am I talking to?” Steve asks, and Sam can hear the fragile hope in his voice.

Barnes stares at nothing. “Your mom’s name was Sarah,” he says quietly, “You used to wear newspapers in your shoes.” There’s a slight grin on his face as he falls silent, and then, “And you fucked your way through all of Brooklyn by the time you were twenty-one.”

Sam blinks. He did _not_ just hear that. “Can’t read that in a museum,” Steve says, relief clear in his slightly wobbly voice.

Wait a minute. “Just like that, we supposed to be cool?” Sam says incredulously, eyes darting between the two men. Steve shoots him a glare, and things sort of blur together after that.

Sam fights War Machine (Colonel _fucking_ Rhodes!!! Sam fights Colonel James _fucking_ Rhodes!!!), there’s a kid who can stick to walls, Barnes sort of saves his life? Or at least, saves him from a couple broken bones - being kicked off of that balcony was not fun, but taking the full force of Spiderkid’s kick? Yeah, no. Sam’ll leave that to the super soldiers, thank you very much.

And then... Well, and then Sam makes a monumentally _stupid_ decision that he really should’ve thought about more, considering the goddamn ramifi _fucking_ cations he’s facing if Barnes and Steve fail. “No, you get to the jet! The rest of us aren’t getting out of here!” And _man_ , his momma is gonna yell at him for this. Shit.

Tic-Tac grows to, like, a hundred feet tall (okay, more like thirty), Steve and Barnes escape, and Sam, Wanda, Clint, and Scott are promptly thrown into the Raft, or as General Fuckface Ross calls it, ‘the prison that doesn’t exist so neither do you.’ Asshole.

Really, they’re only in there for like a week, but Sam stops pretending that they’re gonna be treated like human beings approximately ten minutes after they arrive and Ross slaps a goddamn _collar_ on Wanda, has his men beat the shit out of Clint and breaks Sam’s wrist for keeping quiet while they did it.

Afterwards, when they’re all on the Quinjet to Wakanda, Sam gets up out of his chair slowly, wincing (that last beating might’ve cracked a rib. Or three) and moves over to stand beside Steve. “So,” he says.

“I can never thank you enough for this,” Steve says. “I owe you everything.”

“Nah, what you _owe_ me,” Sam says, smirking, “Is the story of how you fucked your way through Brooklyn back in the day. No one told me Captain America was a huge slut.”

Steve grins at him. “Yeah, well. Can you blame ‘em? Learning that Captain America was sex-positive might’ve ruined their whole schtick.”

Sam snickers and lets out a low whistle, looking Steve over appreciatively. “Well, all I can say to that is, one, God Bless America.”

Steve laughs, long and loud, and when he’s done a little of the weight has lifted from his shoulders. “And two?”

Sam grins. “Two, _man_ do I wish I could’a lived in Brooklyn back in the day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we earn our explicit rating.


	4. Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint learns some things, feels some things, and says some things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooo boy. We sure do earn our explicit rating in this one, folks.

**_~~~(4) Clint (4)~~~_ **

**Steve**

Steve is just slumped on a couch, watching some mindless junk on television and minding his own business when Clint comes over and sits on the chair opposite him. He doesn’t even look at the TV, just keeps his eyes trained on Steve. “Can I help you?” Steve asks.

“Nat told me some interesting things about you,” Clint says, and Steve smothers a grin.

“Oh?” He says innocently, “And what did she say?”

“She said you used to be a massive slut,” Clint says, squinting at Steve.  _ Used to be? Fuck off, Nat,  _ Steve thinks.

“Oh, is that all?” He shrugs and turns his attention back to the TV, letting Clint stew.

“Well?”

“Well  _ what _ ?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Clint growls in frustration. “Are you, Steven Grant Rogers, also known as Captain America, a massive fucking slut?”

Steve shrugs. “Depends on who you ask.”

“Oh my god,” Clint complains, “Would it kill you to give me a straight answer?”

“Clint, I’ve never done anything straight in my life,” Steve deadpans. “So, probably.”

“But you’re like,” Clint says, trailing off. He waves his hand in Steve’s general direction. 

“What?” Steve says, raising an eyebrow. “From the ‘40s? Newsflash, your generation didn’t invent sex, Clint.”

“Well, obviously,” Clint rolls his eyes. “I  _ meant _ you’re like, the epitome of everything straight men try to be. Women want to be with you, men want to be you, yada yada propaganda.”

“This just in: Lesbians and asexual people exist!” Steve says, widening his eyes and exaggerating his movements.

“ _ Ob _ viously. That’s not what I - You’re a real shit, Steve,” Clint says.

Steve shrugs, laughing. “You asked.”

“Yeah, and you never gave me a straight answer,” Clint says. 

“Well,” Steve starts.

“Don’t say it,” Clint threatens.

“I’ve never done a single thing straight in my entire goddamn life,” Steve finishes with a smug grin on his face and Clint shouts in fake anger and lunges at him. Steve catches him and rolls over, pinning Clint beneath him effortlessly. “Hi,” he breathes, eyes locked onto Clint’s.

“‘Sup, Cap,” Clint says, the picture of nonchalance. Well, Steve can feel exactly how  _ nonchalant _ Clint is about this whole affair against his thigh, so. Ha. 

“Feels like you’re the one who’s up to me,” Steve leers, winking lecherously.

Clint blinks at him, and then starts laughing. “That was awful,” he gets out through his chuckles.

“Yeah, well,” Steve rolls off of him and moves away slightly. “You started it.”

“I still don’t believe you’re a massive slut,” Clint declares, sitting up.

“Well, what’s it gonna take to believe it?” Steve sighs. “I gotta suck your dick or somethin’?”

He looks over to see Clint looking at him, and then, “Yes...” Clint says slowly.

“Well, if that’s what it’ll take,” Steve says (like it’ll be a chore), and he gets up off the couch and then drops to his knees in front of Clint. Clint stares at him, mouth wide open. “You gonna spread ‘em or what?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow and nudging at Clint’s legs.

“Spread ‘em,” Clint says blankly, and Steve rolls his eyes playfully and shoulders his way in between Clint’s thighs. “Steve,” Clint says. Steve looks up at him. “You’re on the floor.”

“Yes,” Steve says patiently.

“You’re gonna suck my dick,” Clint says again, hesitant.

“That’s the plan, pal,” Steve says, flattening his hands on the tops of Clint’s thighs. “You good with that?”

“Only since I was fifteen,” Clint says absently, and then his eyes widen as he realizes what he said. “I mean -”

“Hey, relax,” Steve soothes, “Plenty of people have Captain America as their after-lights-out buddy.”

“No, I had you,” Clint says, and that actually gives Steve pause.

“What?”

“I had you,” Clint mutters, cheeks pink, “Little Steve Rogers - tiny, twinky, asthmatic Steve Rogers.”

Steve grins. “Aw, shucks Clint, you’re gonna make a guy blush.” Clint peeks up at him and when he sees Steve grinning, a little tension drops from his shoulders.

“You really want to do this?” He clarifies, and Steve nods.

“Have ever since I saw you fight in New York,” he admits, “Thought it’d be a real nice way to thank you for savin’ the city - just drop to my knees in front of you and suck you off, all nice and slow. Let you fuck my face a little, if you wanted, maybe even -”

“Shit,  _ shit _ , Steve you gotta stop or -” Clint’s hands bunch into fists on either side of him and his head falls back.

“What, you gonna come just from a little dirty talk?” Steve says playfully, and then he fixes his mouth over the bulge in Clint’s sweatpants and sucks gently. Clint swears and his hands tighten further on the couch as Steve pulls his sweatpants down. With his teeth.

“Fuck, Steve,” Clint says, breathless. 

Steve absently notes that Clint’s not wearing underwear - all the better for him, he thinks - and he noses his way up Clint’s thigh, nipping and licking as he goes. By the time he reaches Clint’s dick, it’s fully hard and leaking, so Steve takes the head in his mouth and licks it clean, pulling his mouth off with a  _ pop _ and grinning at Clint’s awestruck gaze. “Yum,” he says, licking his lips.

“This is insane,” Clint breathes.

“You talk too much,” Steve decides, and he promptly takes Clint into his mouth once again, swallowing as much as he can before the tip bumps the back of his throat. Clint lets out a little choked off moan, and Steve promptly resolves to make Clint make that noise as many times as is humanly possible (and then a little more) before they’re done. 

“Jesus Christ,” Clint says, hips twitching up. 

Steve lays an arm over his waist to keep him still, pulls off and says cheekily, “Nah, you can call me Steve.” Clint’s growl turns into another moan as Steve takes him back into his mouth - only this time, Steve doesn’t stop when Clint’s dick bumps the back of his throat. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and swallows around Clint’s cock, forcing it down his throat. Clint lets out a groan and his hips buck up under Steve’s arm. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, and he swipes a thumb over Steve’s stretched out bottom lip, collecting a mixture of his pre-come and Steve’s saliva. “You look real pretty with my cock in your mouth, sweetheart,” Clint says, “I bet you got real good at this back in Brooklyn, huh?”

Steve would answer him (in the affirmative), but his mouth is a little preoccupied as he bobs up and down, varying his rhythm and tongue movements to draw this out for as long as possible. He’s missed this - the weight and taste of a nice, fat cock in his mouth, the feeling of fingers carding through his hair, the sound of someone falling apart beneath his mouth. 

“Steve,  _ fuck _ ,” Clint moans. His hands tighten in Steve’s hair to the point of near pain and Steve groans, the vibrations that causes making Clint swear and look down at him. “You like that? You like when I pull your hair?” Clint asks, and he does it again before Steve can answer.

The pinpricks of pain on his scalp combine with the rush Steve is getting from sucking a dick as beautiful as Clint’s and Steve moans again, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Nuh-uh, keep your eyes on me, sweetheart,” Clint says, and Steve forces his eyes open and locks them onto Clint’s. His face staring up at Clint from between his legs must’ve been the last straw, because Clint  _ yanks _ at Steve’s hair, pulling a moan out of him, and his hips flex up as he comes down Steve’s throat.

Steve keeps his mouth on Clint’s dick, pulling back slightly so he can take a breath and letting it pulse on his tongue. He works his tongue around the head, helping Clint sustain his orgasm, until the other man starts to twitch with oversensitivity. He pulls his mouth off of Clint and stretches his jaw, grinning up at Clint. 

“Damn, Steve,” Clint says, face flushed and eyes wide, “You really are a massive slut.”

Steve barks out a laugh. “Told you,” he winks. “Now, you gonna help me out or am I on my own here?”

“You are absolutely, one hundred percent,  _ not _ on your own,” Clint says fervently, and he lunges at Steve again. (This time, Steve is the one that ends up pinned, and he is A-okay with that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Bruce.


	5. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve raises his hand and Bruce takes a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost there, y'all! One more chapter and then we're done!

**_~~~(5) Bruce (5)~~~_ **

**Bruce**

It’s been a  _ really  _ long day. Look, even though Bruce may not remember what happens when Hulk is in charge, he sure as hell  _ feels _ it afterwards. 

“C’mon gang, who wants to go out on the town?” Tony says, somehow still full of energy and smiling despite the fact that he literally  _ just almost died _ . Bruce loves the man, he does. He’s one of the only people who doesn’t treat Bruce like he’s a ticking time bomb, and Bruce is incredibly grateful to him for that. 

But Bruce is exhausted. Changing always drains all the energy out of him, and honestly? All Bruce wants to do for the next week is sleep.

“This was a mighty battle, friends!” Thor shouts jovially, barely missing Steve’s head with his hammer. (Also, Steve Rogers is back, who knew?) “Tell me, Man of Iron, what after battle rituals do you have on Midgard?”

“We eat. Like, a whole lot,” Clint says, and Natasha nods furiously. Yeah. If they’re starving, then Bruce could eat an entire mountain. 

“That is a good tradition!” Thor shouts. Is he even able to talk at a normal level? Then again, maybe for him that  _ is _ normal. He  _ is _ an alien. And royalty. And divine. “Are we partaking in that tradition? Where are the victuals?”

“Oh snap,” Tony says, and he snaps his fingers because  _ of course _ he does, “I knew I forgot something.” He clanks out of the room (Bruce is eighty percent certain Tony’s forgotten that he’s still in the suit), already on the phone with some food place. 

“Do you have any after battle traditions on Asgard, Thor?” Steve inquires, ever polite. Bruce kinda admires that about the guy. Everything they’ve just been through and he still finds the willpower to be polite to everyone. 

“On Asgard,” Thor starts, “It is a time honoured tradition to lay with the warriors who fought by your side during battle. ”

“Laying, great idea,” Clint says, and he promptly faceplants into a couch that’s only half destroyed and starts to snore. 

“Are any of you, perhaps, interested in partaking in this tradition with me?” Thor asks, and Bruce  _ knew _ that the flush in Thor’s cheeks wasn’t just from a good fight. Bruce finds himself pretty tempted to take Thor up on his offer - but he can feel his eyes getting heavier so he figures he’ll just wait ‘til next time. 

“Sorry, Thor,” Natasha says, sitting down next to Clint and pulling out his aids gently, “Clint would be furious if I did it without him.”

“Another time, then,” Thor says, “And you, my good Captain?”

Steve tilts his head, considering, and then (surprisingly), “Sure. I could use a little fun.”

“Excellent!” Thor exclaims. “To my chambers! I have the adequate supplies there!”

Bruce blinks as he watches them walk down the hallway together. “Steve knows Thor means sex, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha nods, “Steve’s a massive slut. Didn’t you know? He practically fucked his way through Brooklyn back before he became Captain America, and that didn’t exactly stop once his body could keep up with everyone else.”

“Oh,” Bruce says, feeling distantly shell-shocked. “Steve’s a slut, cool. Awesome. Great.”

“Bruce, hey, you look like you’re about to collapse,” Natasha says gently, “C’mere and use Clint as a pillow, he won’t mind.” Bruce is too tired to argue so he walks over and collapses onto the couch, his head landing on Clint’s (surprisingly pillow-like) thigh. 

“Hey, where’d Steve and Thor go?” Tony comes barging back into the room, still in the suit. 

“Post-battle bonding ritual,” Natasha says, “Asgardian thing.”

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Tony says - pouts, more like. “I can drink just as much as Steve!”

“He only brought Asgardian stuff,” Natasha says, “Our mortal bodies couldn’t handle what Thor’s packing.” Bruce swallows a snicker as he catches the innuendo. Completely intentional, knowing Natasha.

“I could try,” Tony mutters under his breath.

“Yeah, but you’d wake up  _ massively _ sore tomorrow,” Natasha says, and Bruce is struggling to contain his laughter - how hasn’t Tony caught on yet?

“Fine, fine,” Tony sighs, “Food’ll be here soon, you mind if I join your little cuddle pile?”

“Only if you take the suit off first,” Bruce says, his voice muffled by Clint’s leg.

“I’m still wearing this thing?” Tony’s voice fades into muffled curses, and Bruce only vaguely feels Tony squish himself into Bruce’s chest, and he’s  _ far _ too exhausted to resist when Tony pulls one of Bruce’s arms around him. Natasha starts to hum something soothing, and Bruce finally,  _ finally _ , lets his eyes close, and he drifts off to sleep, warm and safe surrounded by his team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Tony. That should be interesting...


	6. Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony learns some things that he was not expecting. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, folks! The last bit for this. Thanks to the BDBD who helped me sprint this (and reminded me to post because my memory is about as the same as a goldfish) and gave me love! Love you guys!

**_~~~(+1) Tony (+1)~~~_ **

**Tony**

It’s peaceful in the common kitchen, before everyone else wakes up. It’s just Tony, his coffee, and the hum of his Tower working around him. 

“Coffee,” Clint groans (like a fucking zombie) as he stumbles into the kitchen. “Where’s the coffee?”

“On your right, Legolas,” Tony says, amused. Clint goes left. “Your other right.” Tony watches as Clint fumbles his way through making himself what is sure to be the first of many cups of coffee. He’s feeling pretty content where he is, leaning against the counter - the relentless jitters seem to have been all worked out in the all-night inventing binge he did last night, and he’s going to enjoy this newfound stillness while it lasts. 

“Can I marry coffee?” Clint asks, like he does every morning. 

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” Tony responds, like  _ he _ does every morning. Only - “Hang on, is that a hickey on your throat, Birdboy? Is that a  _ chain _ of hickies on your throat?”

“Probably,” Clint groans, “I had lots of sex last night.”

Tony snorts at his bluntness. He loves all versions of Clint, really, but pre-coffee Clint has a special place in his arc reactor. “Mazel Tov.”

“Denada,” Clint says, which makes approximately zero sense, but Tony’s gonna cut the guy some slack. He is only halfway through his first cup of joe, after all. The two of them drink their coffee in silence until Natasha stumbles in, looking unusually bleary-eyed. 

“Late night?” Tony smirks as she brushes behind Clint, her hand trailing over the little tuft of hair at the nape of Clint’s neck. Clint’s eyes flutter shut, then snap open again. 

“Relatively,” Natasha says, and she’s somehow managed to replace Tony’s coffee cup with a juice box the next time he goes to take a sip.

“Too far, Romanoff,” Tony grumbles, “You don’t touch a man’s coffee this early.”

“I’ll touch whatever I want on a man, thank you very much,” she sniffs, and it takes him a minute but Clint cocks his head and smirks at her. “Can it, Clint,” is all she has to say, and he goes right back to inhaling his coffee. 

Tony opens his mouth to make some sort of crack at Clint - probably involving a whip noise and a crude joke - but before he gets a single word out, Steve sweeps into the kitchen, annoyingly bright eyed and bushy tailed. “Morning,” he says, and then he kisses both Natasha  _ and _ Clint right on the  _ mouth _ before grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Sleep well, Tony?” He asks, but Tony’s too busy staring with his mouth open to respond. 

Did that just happen? “Did that just happen?” He asks, because actually, there is a decent chance he could be hallucinating. Some of the shit down in his lab lets off fumes, and he  _ was _ down there all night. 

“Haven’t you heard?” Steve asks, and the fucker is smirking. “I’m a  _ massive _ fucking slut, Tony."

Tony absolutely says something intelligent and witty and fucking  _ hilarious _ , thank you very much. He does not gape or say “Wha?” like a moron. He does not, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying.

“You’re pretty much the only one on the team I haven’t fucked,” Steve shrugs.

“Bruce,” Tony manages to get out.

“An awesomely dominant partner,” Steve nods, grinning around his water bottle.

“Thor?” Tony says, and he’s sort of getting desperate now.

“Post-battle Asgardian bonding ritual,” Steve says, and Tony knows he’s doing that thing with his tongue along the rim of the bottle on purpose, but his brain is still stuck on  _ Steve Rogers = massive slut _ so you’ll have to excuse him for not being his usual witty self.

“I told you that you wouldn’t be able to handle what Thor was packing,” Natasha says smugly, and that shocks Tony right back to normal. 

“My entire life is a lie, and Steve gets more action than I do!” He declares.

“We could get some of that action together,” Steve leers, and it doesn’t even take Tony a second before he’s agreeing.

“Well, I can’t very well be the only one on the team who hasn’t done his patriotic duty,” Tony says, and as he follows Steve out of the room, he only yelps a little bit when Clint smacks him on the ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope y'all enjoyed some slutty!Steve! I know I did ;)
> 
> follow me on the [ tumbles ](https://candycanedarcy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> follow me on the [ tweets ](https://twitter.com/candycanedarcy)

**Author's Note:**

> I am about as unapologetic as Steve is. It can only go up from here, folks.
> 
> follow me on the [ tweets ](https://twitter.com/candycanedarcy)!
> 
> follow me on the [ tumbles ](https://candycanedarcy.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
